


Better than firewhiskey

by GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Friendship, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey/pseuds/GinIsBetterThanFirewhiskey
Summary: "Ginny locked eyes with Bill and brought the glass to her mouth, drinking all of it without blinking. Bill's eyes went wide at her boldness and Harry pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter, though Ron didn't have this grace and laughed out loud, clapping his hands together." Christmas 1996.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Better than firewhiskey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDistantDusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDistantDusk/gifts).



> For my Dusk.
> 
> For your birthday! 
> 
> Thanks to Jenorama for everything.
> 
> NSFW

"I don't know why he's acting like that. I mean, we know how he is but I swear, I was surprised when Mum told me Dad had received his letter saying that we were liars," said Bill, raising his drink to his mouth.

"Were you really surprised, though?" asked George, looking at his older brother at the other side of the family table. "I'd say it's totally Percy to act like a-

"Prat," finished Fred while George and Ron nodded.

Harry said nothing, comfortably sat on his wooden chair, though he could only agree. He was still fuming by the way Percy had tried to trap him in talking to the Minister, using the family's Christmas dinner to make an appearance. Mrs. Weasley was still denying the fact it was the reason he'd come home.

Harry couldn't blame her, and he knew without a doubt by the way she'd thrown herself into cleaning the kitchen in the muggle way that she was hurt. Her hopes to have her son around for Christmas and to have a happy family reunion in these uncertain times had been crushed the second she'd met the minister's eyes.

When the opportunity to do a simple task for the Order arrived later that night, she was the one to offer herself, and it was clear she wanted a distraction. Arthur had told his kids he'd go with her, of course, and that they would be returning in the middle of the night, so to not wait for them to go to bed. The siblings had waited for their parents to leave and then all damned their brother under their breath to make their Christmas such a joyful time in the family. After a moment, Fleur admitted to Bill that she was tired and she had difficulties keeping her eyes open. She decided to return home to get some rest, kissing her husband good night before leaving.

Harry still couldn't shake the way Ginny's eyes had flashed angrily that night either, and especially how they had met his, like she'd tried to tell him -to reassure him- that nothing was his fault.

"He had the bloody guts to come home and used Harry to-"

"It's okay Ginny," said Harry with a small smile, trying to dismiss her anger, despite the fact his jaw was clenched. He didn't want her to be upset at her brother on his behalf, though, he couldn't stop staring at her when she was angry. There was something about the way her eyes were glowing when she was defending him that made his stomach tremble. The flames of the candles were reflecting in them, dancing and making them even brighter than normal.

"-Harry. It's not okay what he did! He's stupid, and that's all," Ginny said, making Harry jump a bit on his chair. He squirmed a little, wetting his lips and hoping she didn't ask him a question because he wouldn't be able to answer her. For the thousand times in the past few days, he'd been too far in his mind, looking at one part of her body or another.

She was wearing her Weasley jumper, her legs tucked up to her chest comfortably showing her thick socks, ones that would make Dobby jealous, Harry thought, a smile tugging at his lips for the first time of the night. Her tea was untouched on the table, and he noticed how she'd stared in the distance often that night.

"So, dear sister-"

"Uh oh," Ginny murmured to Harry, her arms wrapping around her legs, like she was bracing herself for the stupidities she knew her brother capable of saying.

"We heard something interesting."

"Oh? Do tell," Ginny said, tilting her head, and Harry wasn't mesmerized by the way the flames in the fireplace made her red locks shined in an enticing way, like an invitation to run his hands in them, not at all.

"We heard you're not with Daniel anymore,'' said George.

"Oh really?" she responded sweetly, her hands gripping her mug thighter. There was clearly something dangerous in Ginny's tone, something Harry wasn't sure the twins had caught. His eyes settled on her form, and he found himself hoping it was true that she was single. But only because Dean wasn't the one for her, obviously.

"And who told you that?" she continued. Ginny's eyes flashed in Ron's direction, assuming he was the one telling their brothers about Dean, and Harry thanked the heavens to not be the recipient of that glare. He watched his friend and noticed Ron didn't seem that bothered by his sister's antics, having seen worse by growing up with her.

"We knew he wasn't the right guy for you, Gin-Gin," George said with a paternalistic tone and Fred nodded his head to support his brother. An annoyance bubbled in him, one for the subject of the discussion, because talking about Dean and Ginny's relationship was simply the last thing he needed to calm down after the Minister's intrusion in his first real Christmas party. He wasn't surprised when he saw Ginny's posture stiffen. Though, he was delighted to hear that her brothers agreed with him: Dean wasn't good enough for Ginny.

"Well Dean wasn't, that's true, but I don't know for that Daniel. I'm still waiting to see what he has to offer me," she said, sipping her tea and Harry's heart beat faster at her admission. He'd heard some rumors on the train, but hadn't wanted to think about it too much. This news had finally brought a smile on his face, the first one after the events of the night, and he worked hard to hide it.

"What a Christmas we've had," one of the brother said, making allusion to Percy's visit.

After a couple of minutes, the room rocked by their stifling silence, George got up and returned with a bottle in his hands.

"Firewhiskey?"

* * *

The music -with lyrics leaving no room for interpretation- was loud in his ears, the rhythm in tune with the blood pumping in his veins, and the dirty glasses covering the table seemed to add to themselves at a surprising speed. Ginny and her brothers had already sang a couple of saucy wizarding songs à tue-tête, and she and Harry had went to the kitchen, both sat comfortably on the counter between the dirty glasses and plates of desserts specially baked by Mrs. Weasley for Christmas.

Ginny laughed at his joke and Harry reckoned he couldn't be prouder than at this moment, knowing he was the one who brought that smile on her lips. Lips that were presently wet from the sip of butterbeer she just took and for a second, he wondered if it would be sweeter on her lips. Before realizing what he was doing, he placed a lock of her hair that was hiding a part of her eye behind her ear and Ginny seemed clearly shook by his gesture, and he couldn't blame her, really. He was too. Her eyes were wide, the time seemed to stop around them, and Harry finally put his hand down. She bit her lips.

"Sorry, it just seemed...er, soft I guess. Like satin."

A blush appeared on her cheeks and Harry was reminded of when she used to be shy around him, a warmth filling his chest at the memory. He'd always tried to make her comfortable, acting like he hadn't noticed anything, but he sure had. Strangely, it never annoyed him, really, because he could feel Ginny wasn't like the others, that she would have hidden forever in a hole. And he hated seeing her like this, to know she wasn't herself around him but couldn't help it so he did everything he could to make her comfortable. Not that he understood why she was acting like that around him anyway, being the first person to ever blush in his presence, though it was a change compared to being hit by Dudley's friends or laughed at.

"Are you always that sappy when you're drunk?" Ginny asked him, grinning and in one quick motion, she flipped his nose, the gesture bringing him back on Earth. A flush rose on his neck when he realized what he'd just said, and he just hoped she didn't notice the red on his cheeks.

"Am I?" he said, his voice rougher than he remembered it.

"Sappy? Yes you are."

He narrowed his eyes. "No, I'm not and I meant, I don't think I'm drunk-"

"Of course you are! I'd bet all my chocolate frogs you're drunk as fuck and you know how they're precious to me. I wouldn't take the risk to be wrong, though, I don't remember last time I was."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully at her and Ginny winked, taking another large gulp of her butterbeer and he tried to ignore the way his stomach swooped when she'd winked in his direction and put it on the fact that maybe he was drunk finally. Yeah, it was just the alcohol.

"And what about you? Are you? Drunk, I mean," he asked her. He realized he was leaning towards her, the alcohol making him a bit dizzy, and he replaced himself correctly.

"Harry James Potter, are you insinuating that I could get drunk by just drinking butterbeers? How dare you? The nerve!" she gasped, putting a hand on her heart. "Last time I checked, I was still a Weasley," she added to him with a playful indignation. "But what about that? Let's get drunk! Come on."

She got off the counter and finished her butterbeer in one last gulp. Putting her empty bottle in the sink, she then turned to take his hand in hers and he noticed how warm and small her hand was in his.

Without asking, she went to the table where three of her brothers were sat, talking loudly. She took the bottle of firewhiskey from Charlie's hand, one that was moving animatedly while he was telling a story including a certain dragon named Hector. Charlie didn't even stop to look at her when she removed the bottle from his hands and Harry took the cue and brought closer to her the last two glasses on the table that were still clean -surprisingly. Ginny gave him a dangerous smile and poured them a generous amount of firewhiskey.

Bill was half-listening to Charlie at this point, eyeing his sister and frowning at the quantity of liquid she was serving.

"Hey! Calm down, Pumpkin! You're still a baby," he said and though it was clear he was saying this with a voice filled with love, Harry and Ron winced when Ginny's eyebrows lifted at his words. "You can't drink all that. Mum would kill me."

Ginny locked eyes with Bill and brought the glass to her mouth, drinking all of it without blinking. Bill's eyes went wide at her boldness and Harry pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter, though, Ron didn't have this grace and laughed out loud, clapping his hands together. Charlie was now looking at his sister with a proud smile, and then was berating his brother to let the girl have some fun on Christmas since she was at home and safe. The twins could only whoop at their sister's prowess, remembering their older brother the time he vomited on the floor in front of their mother on a hot summer night ten years ago

Bill looked at Ginny with a frown. "Ok, but only two glasses. AND you just drank one."

"What?! No! How can Harry and Ron drink like they want but not me? And why do you think I'd listen to you?"

Harry imagined Bill knew he had no reason to expect his sister to listen to him and that it was why he ignored it. "They are old enough to drink a little, though I still watch you boys," he said to Ron and then looked at Harry, "because if one of you vomit tomorrow, Mum is going to kill me for real."

"Dad would say it's the wisdom-" began Fred and Bill cut him off.

"Yeah well, you'll be the one dealing with Dad if he finds Ron or Harry puking in the loo. Don't forget to remember him his own words, though."

"They only have a couple of months more than me-" Ginny continued, clearly offended by the unfairness. And Harry couldn't blame her; he would be too in her place.

"If 18 is only _a couple_ for you, yeah, I guess," said Ron and she narrowed her eyes at him when he put his drink in the air to salute her with a wink. Harry could only agree with Ginny though, because -apart from maybe Hermione but it wasn't like Hermione was normal anyway- Ginny was the most mature girl he'd ever met. Lavlav'd got nothing on her.

"Harry is only 12 months older, then. There's no way I stay there on my arse and watch you lot having the time of your life."

"We did worse at her age," said George to Bill in an attempt to help his sister.

"Ron and Harry did worse at 12, they stole a bloody car," Fred added and Harry threw him a ball of paper he found on the table.

"Twice!" added Charlie in his drink and Harry winced a little.

"What an incredible victory of the Weasleys fa-" continued George when Bill cut him with an annoyed look.

"Fine, fine. Drink," he told Ginny, who lifted her fist in the air and Bill turned towards his other siblings.

Ginny flashed Harry a victorious smile when Bill returned to his previous discussion like nothing had happened, and Harry enjoyed that he now had an alcohol buddy. She sat on one of the mismatched chairs, exactly where she was sitting some hours ago, the one Harry knew she always sat at dinner. It was simply hers. He took the hint and sat down too, Ron bringing his drink with him and taking a chair close to them.

They sat there for a while -hours maybe- emptying glass after glass, joking, making fun of each other, and speaking louder than they really needed to. Harry had a smile plastered on his face the whole time. When they played card games, Ginny started a fight with their feet under the table and Harry was proud to say nobody ever realized what was happening, and especially that he won. When she brought her leg under herself, her knee brushed the side of his leg and he tried to ignore the thrill he felt at her proximity. He found himself laughing at the twins dancing or being fascinated by the Weasleys' "rocambolesque" stories. Everything just felt easy. Ginny, for her part, always seemed ready to refill their glasses at every moment, like it was her mission. And an important one for that matter, the most important of all of them.

Arnold was running happily on the wooden table, the fur of his paws all dirty from unidentified liquid which he'd excitedly jumped into. Multiple times. Ginny swore under her breath that she'd need to give the "adorable little shit" a bath now, and Harry laughed, agreeing with her that Arnold was, indeed, adorable. But also a little shit.

To his surprise, Ginny had returned eventually to the table with toast basted with chocolate for the three of them, kidding her brother that she'd forgotten to bring him one and that there were two for her.

The tip of her tongue darted out to lick the chocolate remaining on the corner of her mouth and Harry found himself mesmerized by it. Their eyes locked, Ron never noticing he was speaking alone, and the air felt heavy. She only broke her gaze when she heard Bill swear loudly when Arnold jumped in his drink and made a mess.

"I mean, the git was really sure he'd win points by telling Snape his hair looked good today-"

"He didn't! Oh my Goodness," Ginny laughed.

"Yeah, and wait! Snape said- How did he say that again, mate?" asked Ron to Harry.

Harry was trying to catch his breath, his hands massaging his rib cage, and he did his best to stay serious when he made his best imitation of Snape.

"It was somethin' like 'fantastic observation, Mr. Crabbe, but when I asked you to answer the question, I was waiting for an answer more in the subject of the class. Maybe I could direct you to a hairdresser who'll be charming enough to help you expand your knowledge on the matter.'"

Ginny put her head on his shoulder and he could tell she was in the stage where she was laughing so much, she'd lost it. The jokes they told in the last ten minutes weren't even that funny, but just looking in each other's eyes was enough to send them on a new round of laughters.

Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes veiled from the alcohol she'd absorbed. He himself had the impression his cheeks and ears were on fire, like he'd spent too much time in front of the fireplace.

"I guess you couldn't hold back a reply, mister sassypants."

"How do you know?" he replied with a smirk.

"Of course he didn't," said Ron at the same time as Harry and it only sent them back for another round of laughters, trying to catch their breath.

Many tears of laughter later, Ron eventually excused himself to go to the loo and Harry turned fully towards his partner in crime.

"Now, are you drunk?" Harry asked her.

She frowned, pensive. Harry found her adorable, but before he said something stupid, she answered. "Yup. I'm drunk. Let's dance."

* * *

"Wait, wait! I need to stop you right there, my dear brother. It couldn't be good for you to miss what's happening right now," Fred said, his chin pointing in Harry and Ginny's direction.

Somehow, Ginny'd been able to make Harry stand up and she was holding his hands in hers, dancing around him while Harry had a goofy smile on his lips.

Ron was looking at them with a dumbfounded expression on his face, knowing his friend never actually danced with anyone and would be mortified to realize what he was doing with Ginny.

"Ish he danching?" asked Charlie in awe, his mouth full of a rest of mince pie from the dinner he'd just heated up.

"Well, if you call this dancing, I guess he is," answered George, eyeing his sister who was, for her part, moving on the beat while Harry was in front of her, tapping the floor with his right foot until Ginny took pity on him and grabbed his arms and moved them, following the music. It was impossible to ignore the obvious chemistry between them, one you'd have the chance to admire only once or twice in a lifetime.

"Seems like our charming Boy Who Lived knows how to have some fun finally."

"I knew Ginny could do something with him. I mean, he wasn't going to sulk like that all night long, wasn't he?" Charlie added, and Fred began to explain to him with a laugh who they were really dealing with, here. Ron could only smile at the naivety of his brother, who didn't know Harry like he did.

Looking at his friend and his sister having fun like he hadn't seen them having for a while, maybe even years, he smiled. He considered for a moment to join them, thinking the more they were, the better, but changed his mind when he saw the joy in Harry's eyes. He poured himself another firewhiskey. "Good for him," said Ron with a nod in their direction. "I was worried for him a bit. He seems a bit better than last year, of course, but a guy can only take so much, y'know," added Ron, watching his friend laughing while his sister had her hands on his waist, moving them with the beat and surrendering quickly over the hard task of teaching Harry how to dance, throwing her head back with a loud laugh.

* * *

The lights were low in the house since Ginny had blown out some candles. Charlie was snoring on the couch in front of the fire and Bill had returned home with the promise to return early for the traditional family breakfast in the morning. Harry and Ron had helped George take Fred to bed, Ginny bringing a bowl in case he vomited, and Ron had bid them good night.

Harry filled a glass of water and drank it in one quick motion, feeling that the alcohol would give him a headache in the morning.

His senses were still awake and tense from when Ginny'd brushed her chest against his arm a moment ago. It hadn't taken much more to send his mind where his more inappropriate fantasies were buried deep. He daydreamed for the rest of the night about how good she'd feel against him, how hot her skin would feel under his lips, how her breasts would perfectly fit into his palms -he was sure of it- and before too long, he was adjusting himself incognito under the table.

A snowstorm had begun a couple of hours earlier, the wind making the naked trees sway dangerously in the night and the snow making it difficult to see far away.

The fire was snapping, the familiar and comforting scent rocking his senses. He felt a bit giddy, thinking he'd drank maybe one glass too many.

He wanted to ask Ginny how she was feeling but he couldn't see her anywhere. Fronwing, he moved in the quiet of the house, George running downstairs and opening a box of cookies.

"Did you see Ginny?"

"She went to feed the chickens a couple of minutes ago. Good night, Harry!"

Harry looked outside the window, wondering how on Earth she thought It was a good idea to go outside right now. He sat on a chair -hers- and waited a couple of minutes, watching the snow falling outside and swirling with the wind.

His leg was bouncing, and he had only Charlie's snores for company. He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was happening, or that she needed him somehow and he jumped to his feet and went outside, forgetting to even bring his coat.

The cold wind was even stronger than he thought It was, hitting his cheeks like knives. He didn't wait a second and ran to the chicken coop, hearing the crispy snow cracking under his feet, only to see them eating peacefully.

Ginny wasn't there.

Taking a deep breath and trying to not think about all the people wanting to kill him everyday, he looked around, his heart pumping. There were charms in place to protect them. She was fine, just _somewhere._ The alcohol gave him the impression his movements were slow, and that he wasn't able to think clearly, doing nothing to help him relax, like if he was in a nightmare.

_Calm down. Calm down. Calm down,_ he chanted to himself.

A flash of red caught his eye, despite his glasses being foggy, and he begged his heart to slow down. Ginny was near the shed, her back to him, busy closing the door.

He ran in her direction, his jaw clenched.

"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed, anger coloring his voice and Ginny looked taken aback for a second, but then, the surprise in her gaze changed to incomprehension and then irritation. With her fists tightening at her sides and her eyes narrowing, she lifted her chin, challenging Harry in a way he found incredibly attractive.

"Excuse me? I was just outside closing the door of the shed because I saw the wind had opened it. Care to tell me what _you are_ doing outside with that exquisite attitude of yours?"

A flare of indignation bloomed in his stomach, and when he tried to respond to her by matching her tone, his tongue seemed too big to fit completely in his mouth and It was suddenly complicated to align his words. He concentrated and hoped the rest of adrenalin flowing in his blood would help him express himself without looking too dumb. "I- George told me you were just outside to feed the chickens and it was and cold outside and I was waiting for a while and I went to see if you were alright and you weren't there and-"

"You were waiting for me?" she asked like she couldn't believe it, and It hurt Harry in a way he wasn't ready to examine. The point of her nose was becoming red because of the cold wind (or the alcohol, Harry wasn't sure), snowflakes scattered on her red hair. "And what?" she added, her defense in place again. "You really thought I needed your help to feed the chickens?"

He couldn't hold back the blush that was taking up residence on his cheeks at her accusation but, since he was still trying to slow his heart from the panic he'd just experienced, his embarrassment was secondary to her safety.

"I just thought-"

"See?" she pointed at herself and Harry narrowed his eyes. "Not even cold. I'm perfectly capable of staying alive. Thank you very much, but I'm fine, Harry." Ginny continued her way without waiting for him.

"Are you really angry, right now?" he asked her through the wind, not believing how she was reacting. He was the one angry at her a second earlier, and though he realized he was wrong, he didn't know how to react to her anger.

"Maybe," she answered, her feet pounding quickly on the frozen ground. Harry was sure he saw her foot lose its balance when she walked on a plate of ice he'd noticed on his way to the shed but he wouldn't dare tell her he saw it. He didn't want to die tonight.

"Ginny Weasley, come on. Can you at least-"

"Maybe."

He closed his mouth, incredulous. "Maybe what?"

"I don't know, I'm not listening to you."

He blinked and huffed under his breath, running after her. He placed himself in front of her, walking in reverse to be able to see her face, the wind crashing on his back. Ginny eyed him a moment, but settled on acting like he wasn't there, her arms crossed in front of her to keep herself warm. Harry had the brief idea of offering her his hoodie, but changed his mind. First, Ginny would refuse it and be even more angry at him, secondly, he didn't want to be a Dean Thomas and finally, there was a limit of what the alcohol could do.

"I'm sorry. I-I panicked,"

She stopped, considering what he said, and Harry was about to remind her they were still outside in the snow. He was willing to stay outside a couple of minutes more though, because her long eyelashes were catching snowflakes, the moon making them shine like little diamonds. Harry was sure he never saw something more beautiful.

"I'm sorry too. I'm, maybe-" she said, winking at him, "a bit ridiculous and shouldn't have reacted like that." She smiled sheepishly at him. "And maybe, the alcohol played a bit on my adorable temper, but just a bit. And yes, I don't need your help."

Harry put his hand in the air in surrender. "I'll make sure to remember. Promise. Especially when you're drunk."

She nodded at him. "Good. Always remember I'm the best."

"Of course, the contrary would never cross my mind."

"I hope so. I'm also the fastest," she said and started running toward the house, her laugh echoing in the night.

The vision he had was simply enchanting: hundreds and hundreds of Christmas lights on the Burrow coloring the snow on the ground, Ginny running, her scarf flying behind her and Hedwig hooting from a tree.

When he was sure this moment would be forever etched in his memory, he ran to her, eliciting a scream of pleasure from Ginny who tried to run faster.

It didn't take long that he was near her -having longer legs-, and they stumbled into the kitchen, wet and breathing hard. They removed their boots quickly -Ginny throwing her scarf on the bench near the door-, and worked hard to control their laughter by biting their lips when they saw Charlie turning over on the couch. Removing her last boot, Ginny resumed their little race, jumping the stairs one by one. Harry started running after her, using the ramps of the stairs to propel himself faster and he succeeded catching her around the waist when they arrived in her room.

* * *

Harry held her against him, lifting her so her feet couldn't touch the floor anymore. They were both laughing uncontrollably when Ginny turned in his arms to try to get out of her annoying position.

He had to bend down his head to look in her eyes, the tip of her toes brushing the floor. She gave him a mischievous smile and before he knew it, she pushed on his chest to escape. Being the seeker he was, he easily caught her again, letting out a triumphant shout. She tried to playfully fight him, and without knowing what took him, he started tickling her.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in a breath, controlling her voice to not wake up her brothers. "That's- Ah! Not faiiiir!"

"What? I'm so sorry, I can't hear you. Charlie's snores are too loud," he whispered, a big smile on his lips.

If you'd asked Harry how she ended up in his arms, he wouldn't exactly be able to tell you, apart that her maneuver to tickle him back failed.

Her legs were now around his waist and he was holding her behind her thighs, breathing hard and thinking about how it would be easier to hold her bottom instead.

Her cold hands were on his cheeks, scratching his beard with her nails, the intimate gesture making him feel dizzy but oh so so good. It felt marvelous to be close to her like this, and for once, it wasn't unpleasant, hard or even emotionally painful to share his personal space with someone else. Her hair was tickling his ear and Harry was aware of every part of her that was touching him.

She arched her back to get closer to him, the pressure on him making his skin ache to be touched like he wanted to be. There was an evident magnetism between them, or anyway, he was hoping he wasn't the only one able to feel it.

Bringing her forehead to his, she looked intensely in his eyes and he could swear that time froze. The freckles scattered on her nose that he normally found extremely cute on her were now captivating, bewitching him, even, and yeah, she was so fucking attractive and desirable.

He could feel her breath, her lips so close to his that they'd brushed tantanizalingly, sending shivers down his spine. Her nose was also extremely cold, he noticed when it touched his, brushing tentatively once, twice and he opened his eyes, finding the most beautiful brown eyes penetrating his.

"For a girl who was okay outside, you're pretty cold," murmured Harry, his voice hoarse, feeling like the sound of his voice broke the sacred silence in the room, dispersing the tension between them a little.

"You think? Mmm," Ginny murmured, her eyes never leaving his. Her breath smelled like firewhiskey and a bit of cinnamon. "I guess I'll need to find a way to get hotter then," she added. Harry felt his mouth water and a warmth took place in his chest, and he couldn't exactly know if It was because of the familiar spicy scent of cinnamon, the alcohol or because of what she just said to him. Or all these answers. The only thing he knew was that he hadn't felt so good in a long time and that she could have made him forget his own name if she wanted to.

"You know I'll always be there if you need me," he managed to say somehow, and Harry hoped she understood that under the sexual admission he just made, thanks to his inhibition being soundly asleep, that he was honest. If she ever needed him, he'd run to her without thinking, moving sky and earth, oceans and lakes. An enormous snake didn't even succeed to stop him from saving her soul, as romanticized as it sounded, and he knew with certainty nothing would.

Not when It came to her.

Ginny's breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard, Harry's eyes never leaving hers, hoping she could decode what he was really trying to say. That he'd never regret saving her, even if he died doing it. Harry knew without a doubt she'd do the same in a heartbeat. For her, everything was possible. Or anyway, the alcohol was making him believe it was. Her hands slid into his hair, caressing him and oh God, it felt good. Her fingers were trailing on his forehead, a delicate pressure on his scar and he closed his eyes when she laid her warm lips on it, a lingering kiss that made his wall crack. She then brushed her nose against his again, her eyelashes tickling his skin.

Her long hair was cold and wet from all the snow that had melted and he thought his was probably a right mess now, standing out every which way, but he didn't care.

Her lips were just so close to his, looking wet and soft. He could just lean in a little more and-

It was nothing like with Cho. When Cho had entered his personal space to kiss him and he'd felt trapped, without any place to go. He kissed her back, because It was _probably_ the right thing to do and he had to enjoy the moment after all, even if he was a nervous mess, but he only ended up fairly disappointed. He shouldn't have felt that way since he'd wanted to do it for a long time, but he hadn't felt like it was how he'd wanted it to happen if he was honest with himself. Harry hadn't been in the right mindset, and neither was she. He reckoned he would have needed to know her better, maybe, but now he realized it wouldn't have worked anyway. He'd realized that fancying someone didn't mean being comfortable enough with this person to share a certain vulnerability with them.

He'd finally returned to the common room that night, wondering if kissing was supposed to be so awkward, making him nervous to the point he'd wanted to flee away and hide until he'd be sure that's what he'd wanted, to kiss her that is. He'd thought about it many times in the last months and once it was the time, that the opportunity was there in front of him, he hadn't felt any spark or joy, just nervousness to botch it, to have someone so close to him, and wondering if he was ready to share a part of him -an intimate moment with someone else.

Their kiss hadn't lasted long anyway, only a couple of movements of her lips on his, while he'd stayed still, his eyes closed. It's not that he was horrified by the fact Cho was kissing him, but the salty taste of her tears on her lips wasn't making him feeling comfortable enough to begin having the snog of his life. He had stepped back a little before their tongues could meet, feeling like an absolute tosser because her tears increased. He could only feel like It was wrong. There was no spark, no desire, just awkwardness and a terrible feeling in his guts that they maybe both wanted to forget it ever happened, or worse, maybe just him. It wasn't how he'd imagined having his first kiss and later in the common room, when Hermione and Ron had asked him how It'd felt, he'd been confused by his own response: wet.

Harry had spent the night hoping to forget the feeling of her tears on his cheeks, to stop his brain thinking she'd wanted to kiss another boy than him…

And then he'd fallen asleep and Arthur had nearly died. Of course. Because his life was so normal. It happened to every guy to kiss a girl and hours later thinking he was possessed, right?

With Ginny, it couldn't be comparable because there was nothing similar if the swooping sensation in his belly and the fact his legs felt like jelly were any indicators.

His tongue touched the tip of hers - finally, _finally_ -sending a shock through his body and he felt Ginny shiver in his arms at the contact. Her hands slid to his shoulders.

It started slow, like two people discovering each other for the first time, but It didn't take long for their kiss to heat up, passion replacing delicacy.

Harry knew Ginny and didn't need any more time. He wasn't going to convince himself he knew what he was doing and how to properly kiss a girl, and knowing Ginny, she'd probably keep to herself that their first kiss wasn't one of a pro, giving him a chance to find the rhythm, and he was willing to kiss her all night long if he had the chance to find their own melody.

Ginny's hands were everywhere in his hair now and her lips were frantically caressing his. Even if he knew he was under the Weasleys' roof and that Ron would be probably mad at him, he didn't bloody care. She was like water and he was oh so very thirsty for her. Harry wasn't going to cut that kiss short, even if the world was burning around them.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, and he heard her whimper, the sound sending his blood rushing in his veins. He'd never heard something so arousing, even in his fantasies of her. It was so much better than anything he'd dreamt of and he gave himself the mission to hear it again, and if Harry was anything, it was determined.

Her tongue joined his, delicately, slowly, like she wanted to be careful, like the wrong move would make him change his mind and run in the opposite direction, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

He felt her tongue tracing his bottom lip and couldn't believe the strong desire pooling in his belly, and he briefly thought about how good ravishing her would feel. On her bed, her nightstand, the door or even the floor, he wasn't picky. Ginny was all that mattered in this instant and the taste of her made him dizzy with need, a physical need so strong that he was losing his mind, and It was clear she was feeling the same by the movement she was making against him and how she was purring between each breath.

Electricity was running in his blood, making it boil with a fierce desire to be touched, his hands flexing on her thighs, digging into her skin, wanting to pull her closer to him, to have every part of her against him, more and more-

She moved her hips higher on him, and his fingers were now caressing the undersides of her arse. Ginny then bit his lower lip and he couldn't hold back the moan that escaped his lips. She was making him a mess, and he was combusting on the spot.

Moving her legs from around him and standing on her own two feet again, Ginny took the front of his hoodie roughly, and without breaking their kiss, she led him to her bed. All ideas flew out of mind when he felt the curve of her breast touching his chest.

They stumbled onto her bed, making way more noises they should have and somehow, it didn't impede the passion continuing to build between them. Harry's head was spinning, but somehow he managed to get up on his arms, afraid he was too heavy for her. She felt so small against him, but was taking such a big place in his heart, his mind, his dreams. She was the only real thing, all that mattered.

Her hands caressed his biceps, and he watched her close her eyes and throw back her head on her pillow, like she was savoring the moment, cherishing it and It was no wonder he crashed his lips to hers again.

She moved her lips to his face, kissing him with a fierce passion, wet open-mouthed kisses peppered on his skin, and God, he wished she would continue pressing herself on him like this forever.

Her breath was warm, the inside of her lips hot on his rough skin and he'd had to stop himself from claiming her lips roughly and putting a stop to his misery.

She looked into his eyes, her pupils darker than normal, and slowly moved her hands lower, stopping just at the side of his waist, inserting her thumbs in the loops of his jeans, bringing him closer to her between her legs and making him feel incredible things.

Harry rolled them on their side, hands roaming her body like he'd never be able to do again, and he tried to stop his brain from going in that direction, not wanting to think of tomorrow, only to think of her and the delicious sensation she was making him feel.

She was making him forget everything, wasn't she? The stress he was continually feeling, Dumbledore's plan, his destiny to become a murderer or to be killed, the pain he'd had to endure and repress in the last years, a childhood deprived of love … everything was replaced by her flowery scent, the burning desire in the bottom of his back, the sound of her moans in his ears, a sound he wished to be the only one to ever hear...

He leaned down, his cheek on hers, his mouth on the corner of her mouth and breathing heavily. Hesitating, Harry stopped himself from moving against her, like if it was another step and he didn't know if he was allowed to push it. Her lips caressed the side of his mouth, slowly, gently, grazing it in an absolute torture. Lust was filling his every thought, and he gripped the sheet between his hands, squeezing it, his mouth on her clothed shoulder.

His stubble was grazing her soft skin and he wondered if he should have shaved this morning since It was Christmas, but she didn't seem to mind, her palms and her thumbs caressing it.

Harry shifted onto his knees, his lips never leaving hers, and Ginny was more than eager to never break the space between them either, her tongue hot in his mouth and making him forget for a moment what he wanted to do. He opened his eyes just long enough to catch the moonbeams reflecting on her old wooden floor, giving to her room a peaceful air, only their erratic breathing and an angry scream from a tired Arnold jumping out of the bed breaking the quiet atmosphere.

Her firm hands traveled on his thighs, higher and higher, but never stopping where he wanted them to, just close enough to make his heart jump in his chest and his blood boil. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, closing them tightly and biting his lower lip.

Ginny clearly knew what she was doing, how she was igniting his body, and he swore he could see a certain pride in her eyes, her endearing smile only confirming his suspicions.

His breath hitched from the pleasure and the desire he was feeling and they could only increase when her cold fingers grazed his hip bones, caressing his skin from his sides to the middle, playing sensually with the hair she found. She tugged on his shirt, somehow having already discarded his hoodie on the floor, and he took the hint, letting her lead the next step, never wanting to go faster than she was ready to.

"Let me," Harry breathed, his voice hoarse as he pleaded with his eyes to let him do it, to take the little control he felt he was losing but want to hold on to. But especially, he was hoping she'd understand that he needed to go at his own speed because of how fucked up he was. He didn't want to think about how maybe she shared this with Dean either, it wasn't important because right now it was just him and her.

He knew nonetheless that Ginny'd be the perfect girl, the only girl who could understand his reasons, his needs. Harry breathed in relief when she nodded and smiled reassuringly and at him, like he could take all the time in the world if he wanted to and she would never, ever be bothered by this.

He also wanted to make sure to show her she could trust him, that he was willing to open up to her, to be vulnerable in her presence like he never was with anyone else and that he understood completely that he was asking a lot of her, too. Harry didn't have to think twice about the fact it wasn't natural for Ginny anymore to trust someone blindly, to share a part of her, something raw and real and intimate, and he wanted her to be ready for it, without any pressure. His desire for her and the alcohol in his blood making him bolder than ever weren't enough to not be totally able to listen to any sign she'd give him to show her limit.

Fucking Riddle.

He lifted his shirt and discarded it on her bed and Ginny trailed her fingers in his chest hair, skimming every part of his torso. His hands caressed her thighs and Ginny quickly ended up on her back again with Harry on top of her.

His knee was between her legs and she thrust herself against it, arching her back. Harry quickly understood what she wanted and pushed on her with it, and the moan she let out made the fire in his back increase. He didn't know how he didn't come in his fucking pants.

"Just keep doing that-" she breathed in his ear, and he concentrated on the movement like nothing was more important in the world, like her needs, what she wanted was his priority at this instant, making her feel good, showing her how she was important to him, how - if he wanted to be honest with himself- she'd had always be important for him in a way Hermione, Cho, or any other girl had never been. And never would be.

Ginny was… Ginny. The girl he hadn't hesitated a second to fight a basilisk for, the girl whose soul he'd saved and would do it ever and ever again if only she would kiss him like this just one more time…

He brought the patchwork blanket covering her bed over them -one that had been sewn by Mrs. Weasley without any doubt for Ginny years and years ago-, worried she could be cold but she quickly just removed it, and he wondered if it's because she felt the sheen of sweat on his back. The wind was whistling outside, like a romantic melody resonating in harmony with each thrust of her hips, and Harry knew he'd never associate the winter with anything else other than Ginny and her sweet laugher and desperate kisses.

The erratic thrusts of Ginny against his knee were making it difficult to not lose it, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on tasting the skin on her neck and breathing in her alluring flowery scent. She arched her neck and she let out a cry of pleasure when he bent down his head and gave her hot, open-mouthed kisses on her chest, moving her shirt aside to reach her left shoulder. She arched her back even more, pushing her chest against him and the hand that wasn't caressing her hair lifted to her side, his thumb touching the underside of her bra.

"Please, Harry. Touch me," she said boldly, her head rolling to the side. He didn't need to be told twice, his hands reaching her breasts and massaging them softly. He had no fucking idea of what he was doing, but his instinct told him to just continue, to just enjoy and to _not_ think.

After a moment, Ginny groaned and pulled her sweater down her chest, her cream-colored lacy bra right in front Harry's face and damn, she was sexy when she wanted something. His tongue reached her cleavage - her skin hot like he'd imagined it- and he traced the rise of each breast, wondering how lucky he was to live this with her right now. He was thrusting too and found her nipple through the fabric of her bra, eliciting a loud moan from Ginny. He smiled on her shoulder, and then pinched it.

Taking his hand in hers, Harry was horrified for a second that he went too far, but Ginny put it under her bra, biting his shoulder and thrusting harder and harder when he made contact with her nipple. He rolled it on his palm, finally deciding to use both hands on her, wanting her to feel good, so good.

He made sure to continue pressing against her center, never wanting anything more than help her reach her release, but Ginny pushed on his arse and murmured him to keep doing this like this, wanting _him_ to be pressed against her, not his knee anymore. He thrust against her and he knew he wasn't going to last long.

Both of her breasts were now outside her bra, bouncing with each thrust and he couldn't stop himself from taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking on it like his life depended on it.

Harry concentrated on how good it felt to be close to someone like this in an erotic way, and let the sensations build and build without any shame, feeling how he was close, just so close…

He had no control at this point, Ginny making sure he was losing his mind dangerously with every encouragement she was murmuring in his ears, making his breathing difficult. Harry knew, despite the fact he was somehow still afraid of losing control some moments ago, that he couldn't stop what would ultimately result from the friction of their bodies and he didn't care, thanks to the alcohol he assumed.

But really, he was more certain it was because of his relationship and trust in Ginny than anything else, because he knew he'd been willing to let any wall fall and relish the sensations she was making him feel if the situation would have presented itself differently.

He rolled Ginny again on her side, bringing her neck closer to his lips and letting them linger on her skin, and then she was moaning again and again in his ear, crying out his name and shivering in his arms. That's when he lost it, biting her neck in an effort to not cry out too loud, and Ginny realized what was happening and held him, her lips on his forehead.

They let their breathing slow down and it didn't take long for the both of them to fall asleep, holding each other tightly, Harry soothed by Hedwig hooting in the night and Ginny snoring adorably.

When he woke up in the middle of the night -probably when he heard the floo announcing Mrs. and Mr. Weasley's return- he found himself comfortably tucked under Ginny's blanket, her head on his shoulder and he remembered everything that had happened. Looking at the ceiling in her room, he pretended to be asleep, knowing he wasn't ready to see her panicked eyes when she'd regret what had happened between them under the alcohol's influence.

He wasn't exactly sure of what to do and, despite the desire to stay with her in her bed, warm and intimate, he settled on going in Ron's room -where he was supposed to sleep- before someone woke up. The last thing he wanted was someone to find him in Ginny's bed but he'd hoped to talk with her before leaving.

Making sure to not wake her, he released his arm from under her, but not before letting his thumb caress the freckles on her shoulder, where her shirt had lowered. He then kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin until he took the courage to brave the cold of the room.

It took him more time than ever to just put a shirt on, and when he finally did, he looked at Ginny, still asleep and sighed.

Wondering if he'd ever have the chance to kiss her again, he closed the door behind him.

* * *

He didn't sleep well for the rest of the night, wondering what he could tell her in the morning, if she regretted it, if the connection he felt they had was only in his head.

Ron's reaction was another thing to consider, despite the fact that Ginny was taking more place in his mind than his best friend. If she'd always be in danger if they were dating or if she was destined to cruelly lose her boyfriend (if she even wanted him to be, that is) on a grey night. Could he give her a normal life, he wondered, feeling a pang in his chest. What he was sure of was that she could give him one for a change, and the last night had been one of the best of his life.

He'd laid on the camp bed in Ron's bedroom, watching the ceiling for what seemed like hours, until he could hear the birds that had just woken up with the sun, singing in the wee hours of the morning.

Harry was sat at the table when Ginny arrived still in her pyjamas, looking more and more inviting every second he put his eyes on her. So he tried to concentrate on his cereal. Flashes of her rocking on his knee and breasts bouncing against his skin kept popping up incessantly, not giving him a bloody break.

Breathing maybe a bit louder than he wanted, he caught Ginny's attention and their eyes met, an horrifying and awkward silence between them,

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her daughter. "Ginny, you received a letter this morning," she said, putting it at her place at the table.

"Thanks," she murmured to her mother, her voice rough from the night and Harry's body shivered. Ginny looked at the letter in her hand and frowned.

"Who wrote to you, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley, cooking another set of sausages for the twins who looked green.

"Oh, erm. No one. I mean, no one important."

"I thought I recognized Dean's writing," her mother added, putting the sausages on her sons' plates.

Harry lifted his head with a start, his eyes searching Ginny's but she averted her gaze this time. Could he blame her since he'd just done that himself? No. Was he annoyed anyway? Fuck, yes.

"What does he want?" Mrs. Weasley pushed and Ginny swallowed, like she needed a second to calm down and not let her temper flare, because there was no doubt she was clearly irked by her mum. The glare she cast at her mother's back would have made Mrs. Weasley lose her damn mind if she'd been able to see it, but Ginny was cleverer than that. Molly returned to the table with a plate full of pancakes and looked at her daughter's letter tentatively.

"It's just Dean wishing us a Merry Christmas."

"Oh! And his mother," Molly said with a smile, who'd succeeded in reading it over her daughter's shoulder, and Ginny sighed. "How sweet of them."

"Please write him back and tell his family we wish them the same," Arthur said.

"Hum hum," Ginny murmured to her father, folding the parchemin and putting it under her plate.

"You should invite him over to take tea with us, maybe even invite his mother. It would be time we met the boy who makes your heart beat, don't you think, sweetheart?"

A wishing card from Dean's family. Meeting his mother. All the other bloody things Harry could never give her. The back of his neck got hot from anger and he couldn't deal with it anymore.

"Excuse me," he said flatly to the table and without looking back, and he could hear the concern in Mrs. Weasley's voice telling him he hadn't even eaten his breakfast. He ran upstairs, and then shut the door behind him. His broody self was now unleashed, and Harry was damning every fucking thing he could think of. He resisted the urge to hit Ron's nightstand with his foot and settled on sitting on the camp bed, putting his elbows on his thighs and holding his head in his hands.

He was confident Ron would have run after him, like the bloody good best friend he was, but Harry was more than happy to see that Ron had seemed to take the hint and let him have some space.

"Can I come in?" Ginny's voice resonated through the door, and he thought for a second to act like he was sleeping, not feeling particularly ready to fake-smile and tell her he was fine, just bloody fine.

"Yeah."

She opened the door, and sighed, like she was relieved he'd agreed to talk to her.

"We need to talk," she told him, not giving him any reason with which he could avoid the discussion and somehow, he was more than relieved she took control. But also irritated she wouldn't deal with his shit.

"Yeah? About what? How's Dean by the way?" he said, and he knew he wasn't fair with her, but he couldn't help it.

She crossed her arms in front of her with a huff and narrowed her eyes at him. "He's fine. He didn't seem too heartbroken, the bloody git."

Harry could admit he wasn't waiting for this response, but he remained as still as marble, his face unreadable.

"Okay look, I'm sorry for yesterday, I guess-"

"You're sorry?" he murmured, hoping his voice didn't tremble. His fears were coming to life. She was regretting it and it meant nothing.

"Well, yeah. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, and we were quite drunk-" she added with a sadness in her voice, looking at her feet.

"I-I didn't regret it, for my part," Harry told her from his bed, playing with the old blanket covering it, not wanting to see her face contort in pity. He swallowed with difficulty, a ball forming in his throat. How it could be harder to open up to a human than fighting Voldemort, he'd never know, but It was. Harry just tried to remind himself at least It was Ginny, and she'd have the grace to not inform all the world of what happened between them.

"I dreamt of sharing this with you for so long, I'm not regretting it either," she said, her expression challenging him to not believe her, and Harry could feel his heart pumping in his ears. The look she gave him was clear: It was as much difficult for her than for him to admit it, but she was willing to do it anyway. He hoped It was because she was comfortable enough with him for it and it was enough to soothe his pain.

"You're not?"

"I'm not."

"What about Dean? I guess he wants to -I don't know, stick the pieces back together if I could say or er-" he tried to explain, rarely having hoped to be so wrong.

She smiled at him, and he knew she held back a cocky reply about how he wasn't the most talkative man of the world, but she controlled herself and settled on clearing her throat. Harry thought he'd have prefered she laughed at him than to see her struggle to keep her laugh for herself, though, but still admired her courtesy nonetheless.

"Nah. And even if he wanted, I was the one to break it off with him. I'd never return to a relationship with someone if it didn't work the first time. Apart from - I dunno- the git is too noble for his own good and does have a sexy arse," she told him with a wink, and dammit, it was like she knew it would totally be his style to do that, having the _luck_ of being the Chosen One.

Harry got up from the bed, the sun from the window warming his back. Walking towards her, the electricity of yesterday regenerated itself instantly, pulling them to each other like magnets, and there was no way to fight it. To fight nature.

Without breaking eye contact, he caught her fingers in his. He simply wanted to look into her eyes, to make sure he'd understood correctly, but Ginny took the back of his head and pulled him to her without preamble. His hands slid on her back, pulling her closer and closer. Harry let out a relieved laugh against her mouth, letting his fingers dance in her hair and she smiled against his lips.

"For the record, Partner in crime, I'm still-"

"The best."


End file.
